


An Ordinary Kind of Death

by Sir_Thopas



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13097763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Thopas/pseuds/Sir_Thopas
Summary: There was nothing magical in the air. Christmas was just like any other day. There was laughter and petty arguments, cooking and misbehaving children and reconciliations. Haymitch finds himself in the middle of a domestic scene and doesn't mind.





	An Ordinary Kind of Death

Haymitch had refused to entertain even the thought of marriage. But sometimes, when his guard was down, brief images would roll through his head before he could stop them. When Katniss was getting married and Effie was emailing her every picture she could find of poofy brides half-drowning in their own dresses, Haymitch's brain sought revenge against him for all the hangovers he made it suffer through. A parade of daydreams rampaged through his thoughts, each one starring Effie in one of the many ugly dresses she had forced him to look at during those god-awful months leading up to Katniss's wedding. The worst part was knowing who the groom was supposed to be. There was no way he would ever let Effie put him in a suit, and he'd burned his dress uniform years ago during an "episode" as Effie liked to call them. 

When it finally happened, he'd almost wish it was the gaudy, formal affair that he'd always assumed it would be. At least then Effie would be having fun. 

But her pragmatism had outweighed her romanticism. When she proposed it had been quick and cut him to the bone: "It will be easier dealing with the doctors if we're married, and it will give me power of attorney." They'd gone to the courthouse -– him in jeans and a clean button-down, her in a white suit with a tight little pencil skirt that he wouldn't mind seeing on her again -– and that was that. They were married. They'd have to find some way to tell Katniss and Peeta; of course, there was that other little piece of news they'd have to tell them first. 

Not so little. Haymitch threw back the wine that had been left sitting next to Effie's elbow, ignoring her baleful glare as he swallowed it down. She could threaten him all she'd like, dump all his liquor down the sink, but he knew she wouldn't. There wasn't much point in taking it away from him now. "That's for cooking with," she said grimly, before turning her eyes back to her measuring cup. She held it up to the light, gauged its weight, and then carefully poured a fraction of the wine back out. Rinse and repeat. 

Haymitch couldn't stand it. With a roll of his eyes, he swung the bottle around and dumped what he assumed to be the right amount into the pan, walking quickly away from the scene of the crime to escape Effie's painfully shrill squawking. 

He let out a sigh when the doorbell chimed, followed rapidly six or seven more times as tiny fingers worked the button. He turned toward the front door and only managed to open it a crack before a small hobgoblin barreled past his legs. Peeta smiled at him, his arms laden with gifts like a blond pack mule. Katniss was standing next to him, looking pregnant and angry. "Merry Christmas!" 

"Hurry up, you're letting in the cold air," he grumbled. 

Katniss needed no other invitation. "Move, I have to pee." Was the only greeting he received. 

Peeta kicked the door closed and moved to set the presents under the large, half-decorated tree standing in the middle of his living room. Haymitch had been meaning to finish it before the kids came, but he couldn't muster up the energy. He had passed out with a bottle of vodka instead. Peeta's smile slipped into a frown as his eyes lingered over Haymitch's form. "You've lost a lot of weight. I don't think the sweater we got you is going to fit." 

He said it carefully, a question mark dangling at the end of his sentence. It was a fact. He had lost a lot of weight. The kid was just trying to politely inquire as to _why_. 

"S'okay. Better it be too big than too small." _None of your fucking business,_ was the slightly less polite response. 

Haymitch turned to head back into the kitchen, Peeta trailing after him. Bryony was already there, bouncing in a chair at the breakfast table and talking about all her pre-school friends while Effie meticulously read and re-read the directions on how to properly cook a goose. Effie had gotten it into her head that they would have a _real_ family meal this year, which meant she had to cook it as the de-facto matriarch despite the fact that the closest she had ever come to cooking anything from scratch was being invited to sit at the chef's table in a five-star restaurant. Haymitch was anticipating a lot of tears and smoke, which he was going to relish every second of. "How's the Christmas chicken coming?" 

"Awfully big for a chicken," Katniss muttered as she shambled into the kitchen. "Bry, go take off your coat and hat." 

"No! I want to feed the geese!" The little girl insisted, frowning in a familiar way that set Haymitch's teeth on edge. 

Haymitch waved his hand at her, "Come on, then." Bryony leapt from her chair and plowed into him, grasping onto his wrist as she tried to match his big steps. 

He heard Katniss ask, "How long do you think we can get away with calling it a chicken?" 

"Oh, a year maybe. Two at the most," Peeta replied. 

Haymitch shrugged on his coat as he stepped outside. It hung on his shoulders, leaving him lost in the folds of the material. Bryony let go of his wrist to jump off the front steps, landing lightly in the snow. She ignored Haymitch's angry shout to be careful. He could have been just another bird chirping. Worse, because she'd probably pay attention to a bird. She was just like her mother, and God help him, he loved the kid, but his death couldn't come fast enough if it meant being spared from living the next couple of decades with _two_ of them. 

Bryony hopped along the path, enjoying the feel of her boots sinking into the snow. Then she took to kicking it upwards as she walked, and then leaning forward to "trudge" through the two inches like an Arctic explorer. Haymitch fell out of step to creep behind her, moving as silently across the snow as any predator. He reached out and grabbed her by the waist, slinging her under his arm while she laughed and thrashed. She suddenly stopped her wiggling and looked up at him with a scheming little smile. "Are you ticklish?" She asked in that sing-song way of hers that let him know she was plotting something. 

"Nope." 

Never one to take his word for it, Bryony began to dig her tiny fingers into his ribs, trying to find the chink in his armor. If she moved her fingers to the right a little, she would be able to feel the lump. Already winded from their short walk, Haymitch set her down and she took off like a jackrabbit, peering into the coup to stare at the geese, now one goose less since the last time she had visited. Not that she would notice. "You should build them a real house," she said. 

"They've got a house." 

"No, they need a _real_ house, with windows and shudders." 

"They're called shutters, sweeheart. 'Cause they shut." 

Bryony ignored him and went to fetch some pellets from the little shed not far from the coup. Haymitch looked out across the valley while she fed them, cooing gentle words and giving them all names. His eyes wandered across the sprawling trees that swam over the mountains, still searching for the long-rotted cabins that used to dot the land. "Do you want to see the place where I grew up?" He asked. It was an impulsive question. He hated it whenever he had to drive by the damned field, but Bryony should see it. He thought she should know something about it. 

"Yes!" Bryony dumped the rest of the pellets onto the dirt floor, leaving the geese to fight to the death for them, and ran to catch his hand, swinging it between their bodies as they walked. 

He took her across the creek and through a patch of woods to a field that looked like every other field in the holler. The only thing of note was an old outhouse made of petrified wood. "This is where my house used to be, before I built the lodge," he said, kneeling next to her to point out the ghostly outline of a building that still haunted his dreams. "This was in the '50s. It only had two rooms. My little brother and I shared a trundle bed that we kept in the living room. See that outhouse? That's where we had to go if we needed to use the bathroom." Bryony giggled at that. "And that mountain there? That's where your momma grew up, though I was already long gone by the time she was born." 

"Mommy said there was a fire and that's why Grandma doesn't have any pictures of her when she was a baby." 

"That's right. A fire destroyed most of the town and a good bit of these woods, her house included. My old home had already been demolished. Nobody was living in it then and it was falling apart anyway." 

He stood up and linked their hands again, feeling the small, delicate bones between his calloused fingers. "Where's your brother now?" Bryony demanded, suddenly aware that he had never once mentioned having brother to her before. "Did he die?" 

"Yes, he died." 

Things had not improved when they finally made it back to the lodge. Peeta was hovering around Effie, providing helpful hints even as his hands twitched in an effort not to just shove her out of the way and take over. Katniss sat at the bar, filling her mouth with wedges of cheese as she watched them with mounting amusement. Haymitch grumbled at them, "Just let the boy do it. Give him a chance to use that fancy degree of his." 

"I can do it." Effie practically growled her words, her teeth barred in something no sane man would call a smile. Haymitch kind of liked that. 

"Speaking of Peeta's 'fancy degree'," Katniss said, her face growing soft at some secret thought as she leaned down to tug at Bryony's coat. "He has something he wants to tell you." 

Peeta stood a little straighter, a grin overtaking his face. "We've decided to open our own bakery." 

Haymitch scowled, pushing past Peeta to reach the refrigerator. He pulled out a beer without bothering to look at either of the two kids. He knew what he would see. "Katniss come up with that idea? Because it's terrible." 

"Excuse me?" 

"Come on, you don't really think now's a good time to start a business, do you? You've got a four-year-old and another on the way, and you're still paying off Peeta's student loans." 

Haymitch finally looked up and, yes, there was Katniss's trademarked scowl aimed directly at him. "It was Peeta's idea, originally," Katniss said. "But I think it's a good one." 

"I should just tell you to go ahead and do it. Because you always have to do the exact opposite of what I tell you, maybe if I said I agreed you'd realize it was stupid." 

"Get over yourself. I don't do things simply because you tell me not to do them." 

Haymitch snapped his fingers. "You're absolutely right, oh except for that time when I told you not to eat Sae's potato salad and you got food poisoning after _going back for seconds_. And who could forget that time when I told you not to join the army, and you fucking enlisted before your album could drop." 

"Language!" Effie scolded. 

"What a fine hypocrite you are. You joined the army too!" Katniss shot back. 

"I was conscripted! You volunteered!" 

The sound of the oven door slamming shut pulled them away from arguments long grown old. "Goose is in the oven! Everyone out of the kitchen and into the living room for presents!" Effie clapped her hands together like she was back in Nashville and hustling country stars onto stage at the Grand Ole Opry. 

It was dead quiet in the kitchen until a small, tremulous voice asked, "Goose?"

* * *

The Abernathy-Trinket-Mellark-Everdeen tradition of opening only one present each on Christmas Eve, while saving the rest for Christmas morning as was custom, began the year Bryony was born. Having the limited brain capacity that was typical of infants, the little girl didn't give two shits about Christmas. She was far too busy trying to eat the tinsel off of the Christmas tree. It was Effie who could barely contain her excitement. She was dying to see Bryony's reaction to opening her very first Christmas present. So, to tide her over, they allowed her to give Bryony a present one day early. It had snowballed from there. 

Bryony sat listlessly against Peeta, her head nearly buried into his shirt and feeling very betrayed by everyone in the room except for her dear, gentle father. She took the present Effie handed her and clutched it to her chest. Haymitch could see the spark of excitement at war with her desire to punish them with her pouting. Haymitch reached down under the tree to pull out a small, soft lump bundled in blue wrapping paper that screamed _Happy Birthday!_ in bright gold letters. On it, Katniss had scrawled his name in black sharpie. 

Katniss responded by picking up a brown paper bag that Haymitch had originally brought home his vodka in. 

The Abernathy-Everdeen tradition of giving each other the worst gifts they could find started the year they met each other. It was a natural progression of their relationship. 

Bryony started the evening off by tearing open her present, her greed finally triumphing over her self-righteousness. "It's Felicity!" She screamed as she lifted the colonial-style doll high above her head like she was brandishing a sword. A little book that came with it fell to the floor, forgotten. 

"Go thank whoever gave it to you," Peeta prompted. 

"Thank you, Effie! Thank you, Haymitch!" 

Haymitch had no hand in picking the gift, but Effie was nice enough to include his name on the label anyway. 

Effie and Peeta were next and they each congratulated the other on choosing the perfect gift. Peeta with his new, high-powered mixer and Effie with a stylish handbag. 

Haymitch tore at the scotch tape that held his gift together to reveal... a pair of socks with a card that had once said 'Merry Christmas!' before Katniss had scratched it out and wrote 'Fuck you' over it. 

"Are those _my_ socks?" Peeta asked. 

Haymitch grinned and threw them back at Peeta. Katniss dipped her hand into the brown bag and pulled out a frowning plastic Halloween jack-o-lantern. The yellow 99¢ sticker had been left on and Haymitch had taped a note on it that said, 'Thought it looked like you.' "It's just what I always wanted," she said and Haymitch laughed. 

He tried to ignore the way Effie pursed her lips together. If she clenched her jaw any harder, her pretty, porcelain-white teeth would crack. 

"So, Haymitch, how did you convince Effie to come out here for Christmas?" Peeta asked.

"I made a trail of shoes all the way to Nashville. Sort of the opposite of Hansel and Gretel." 

Effie quickly butted in. "I just thought the cabin would be nice and cozy. Like _Little House on the Prairie_! But we'll be back in Nashville by the new year." The 'cabin', as Effie called it, boasted six bedrooms, a hot tub, and every luxury that could be imagined. When Haymitch had told her that he was retiring to the Seam, she had paid a very large amount of money to have this built for him. Because, as she said, 'if she had to sleep in the woods, she might as well be comfortable.' Effie had spent all of two days here with him only to flee in terror when a possum managed to find its way inside. She had forever vowed never to set foot inside the lodge again. It hadn't bothered him. They had never had what could be called a typical relationship. She had her life in Nashville, full of dinner parties and celebrity friends, he had his life in the Seam, which mostly consisted of being alone and drunk. They'd meet up in the city for a week, a month, before all the people would start to get to him and he'd run back to the woods before the nightmares could hook their claws inside his brain. It was probably better this way. They'd kill each other if they had to live together 24/7. 

"Together?" Katniss asked. "You're following her back? Wow, Haymitch, that's a lot of socializing. You'll have to cancel your upcoming spot on _Doomsday Preppers_." 

The oven saved him from saying anything too caustic or revealing. Katniss was quick to follow her stomach and they all piled around the dining room table as Effie came in with the goose, holding it like she had stepped out of some 1950s sitcom. The bird looked beautiful, just that right shade of golden brown. A chorus rose up from the table at the sight and Effie basked in their praise as she placed it on the table as the centerpiece. 

Bryony sat with folded arms, having decided to go back to pouting, her doll squished beside her in the chair. Katniss loaded her plate with everything except goose. For a moment, Haymitch thought she would refuse even that, but she was too much like her mother when it came to food. "Is that all you're going to eat?" Effie asked as she looked at the small portions Haymitch took. 

"Still full from lunch." That was a lie. He didn't eat any of his lunch and she knew it. 

Everyone who wasn't Bryony immediately dug into their Christmas goose. Haymitch chewed slowly, feeling the piece of meat roll around inside his mouth. 

"It's very..." Katniss began, only to trail off. 

"How much salt did you use?" Peeta asked. 

"Good job, Effie, you just killed whatever appetite I had left." Haymitch spat out the half-chewed mush onto his plate. 

Effie burst into tears.

* * *

"Effie, please, come out of the bathroom." 

Loud, hiccupping sobs were her only response. 

Katniss glared at him from where she sat on his bed. "Don't look at me like that!" Haymitch snapped. "We all know it tasted terrible!" 

Peeta peeked into the bedroom. "I've put Bry down for the night. She's just waiting for you to tuck her in, Katniss." 

Katniss nodded and lifted herself up, one hand beneath her belly. Peeta knocked softly on the bathroom door, calling Effie's name. Haymitch let him do it. He'd only make it worse and she needed a soft hand right now; he just hoped she wouldn't say too much to the boy. He wouldn't mind telling Katniss, he was planning on doing it tonight, actually, but the boy... He'd rather they all get through Christmas one last time before he found out. 

Haymitch followed Katniss out and lingered just outside the door to the room reserved specially for Bryony whenever they all stayed over. He could hear Katniss sing softly to her and he wondered if Bryony knew how close her mother had come to being a star. Sixteen years old and co-winner of _Nashville Star_ 's final season. Peeta had won too, of course, but it was Katniss who had somehow wormed her way into the audience's hearts with her heart-wrenching story. Haymitch had been there to guide her through it, chisel away the sullen, squirrel-eating hillbilly into a sensation. But celebrity had never been something she wanted; she'd only entered the contest for the money. 

Katniss stepped back into the hall, pulling the door closed behind her. "Come on," Haymitch whispered. "There's something I need to give you." 

Katniss cocked her head, the confusion evident in her eyes as she followed him into his office. Haymitch went to his desk and pulled open a drawer, taking out a manilla folder and placing it in her hands. "I've named you and Peeta as my beneficiaries. Effie too, though she makes her own money, so I'm not worried about her." He watched her flip through the papers, not understanding. 

"So... you're leaving Peeta and me all of your money when you die?" She asked. The idea of his death is a far and distant event in her mind. They might as well be talking about the day when humans will colonize the moon. Then her eyes settled on a number standing starkly black against the crisp white paper. "Oh... that's... that's a lot of money. I mean, I knew you had money, but you never _acted_ … I kind of thought you were just living off of Effie." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not _that_ good of a manager. Where did you even get it all?" 

"Originally, I was just a poor mountaineer, barely keeping my family fed, when one day I was shootin' at some food and up through the ground come a bubblin' crude. Oil that is, black gold." 

"That's the theme song to _The Beverly Hillbillies_." But she's laughing. 

Haymitch allows himself a smile before pushing forward. He won't turn coward now. "I needed to show you this because... Well, I'm pretty sick. Cancer." 

The smile slipped from her face and he could see the slow build-up of righteous fury in her gray eyes. "Okay. Okay. People have beaten cancer. We'll fight it. Effie probably has the best doctors this side of the States on speed dial." 

"I've already seen half a dozen doctors. There's not much left to fight for, sweetheart. At least now you won't need to get a loan for your bakery." 

Katniss shoved the paperwork into his chest. "You're an asshole! You think I'd rather have a bakery than you?!" 

"It's not about what you want, it's about what's going to happen!" He snapped back, but she's already fleeing. Burrowing into her den with her cub, safe from anything that could hurt her. Haymitch placed the folder back inside his desk before heading up towards his room. He could hear Effie and Peeta talking quietly through the door. 

"This is going to be our last Christmas together and I just... I wanted everything to be perfect." 

_So he knows too._ Haymitch pulled himself away, slipping down the stairs and into the living room to sit in front of the naked tree. He let himself sink into his chair, staring blankly at the blinking lights for minutes. Hours. Wishing he had a bottle of something in his hands. Something from home, like Ripper's moonshine. But she's dead, and soon he will be too.

He doesn't know when he falls asleep, but he wakes to his eyelids being pried open. Bryony is on his lap, her hands grasping his face. He can blearily make out her blue eyes staring into his own Seam-gray ones. "It's Christmas," she whispered. 

When she pulls back he can see Effie and Katniss and Peeta sitting around him with smiles plastered gamely onto their faces. "Merry Christmas, Haymitch," they chime, in unison. 

"Merry Christmas."


End file.
